


Hiraeth

by TimAndJava



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, M/M, domestic life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimAndJava/pseuds/TimAndJava
Summary: {Hiraeth:  a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.}Sometimes Tim wishes that he and Kon could go back in time, to when things were different. Before kids and work and life got in the way of everything. One Christmas, Tim gets his wish. Almost.





	1. A Long December

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by Rainbow Rowell's fantastic novel "Landline." I've got a fair bit of this story written already, so I'm going to try to update at least once a week, but it could be more or less often than that. thanks for reading!

{December 21, 2017}

Tim was home late. Really late. His new project had kept him holed up in his office at Wayne Enterprises for far too many hours. He crept into the house with the kind of stealth that only a former protégée of the Batman could possess. 

But all that stealth goes to shit when you're married to an alien with super-hearing. 

Kon waited in the kitchen, hovering just off the ground, his hands on his hips in his usual Superboy stance.

"Well," Kon said as Tim stepped into the kitchen, "you're home late."

Tim ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long sigh. "Kon, I'm really sorry. This project--"

Kon cut Tim off with a wave of his hand. He stopped hovering, and set his feet on the ground. His face was twisted into an angry expression.

"Save it, Tim," he growled. "We had plans tonight. And you blew them off. Just like always."

Tim sighed again. "Kon, I know we had stuff, but --"

Kon let out a bitter laugh. "Stuff?" He asked. "Stuff, Timothy? We were supposed to take the boys to go see the lighting of the Gotham Christmas tree. Instead, I took them by myself and endured hours worth of questions asking where dad was!"

Tim bit his lip and sighed once more. "I know I let them down," he whispered, "and I'm so sorry."

Kon shook his head. "Forget it, Tim," he said softly. "At least you're here now. Are you done packing for tomorrow?"

Tim stared down at his feet. "Um, that's part of why I was at work for so long tonight," he mumbled.

Kon laughed. "What, you were packing for Smallville at the office?"

Tim sighed. "Not exactly."

Kon frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Look, Kon," Tim said, "I'm not going to Smallville."

Kon gaped openly. "What do you mean? We bought the tickets months ago!"

"I know," Tim responded. "But there's this project, for work, it has really exciting military applications and--"

"You're missing Christmas in Smallville for a fucking work project?"

Tim couldn't stop the tear that ran down his cheek. "Kon it's important. I've got a meeting with potential investors on the 24th, and we're not quite done with the design yet."

Kon threw his hands up on the air in frustration. "I can't believe you, Tim! Your dad owns the company, just move the meeting!"

Tim began to cry harder. "I can't move it! I can't!" he shouted. "The investors are from Europe, they've only got a few hours in the states and they're spending them at Wayne Enterprises!" 

"Wow," Kon whispered. "Just, wow."

The couple's argument was interrupted by a small voice from the kitchen's doorway.

"Daddy?" The voice squeaked.

"Shit," Kon said under his breath. "Dylan, come on, I'll take you back to bed. I was just talking to dad about something."

"Oh," Dylan said. "Hi dad."

Tim smiled through his tears. "Hi, Dylan. Go with daddy, go back to bed."

Kon left Tim in the kitchen and grabbed the sleepy four year old's hand. "Come on, Dylan."

Tim leaned against the countertop as Kon led their so back to bed. Tim was conflicted. He wanted to go to the family Christmas they'd been planning for months. But at the same time, he had work to do. Work that could really change the outlook of the company's stocks projections for the next year.

Kon came back into the kitchen with a set of sheets and a pillow.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight," he said. "I don't want to wake you up in the morning if I sleep in your bed."

"Our bed, Kon," Tim whispered, "it's our bed."

"Whatever," Kon mumbled. "I'll call you when we get to the airport tomorrow."

"I can drive you there," Tim offered in a frantic voice.

Kon shook his head. "Bruce is sending Alfred over. No need to call him off."

"Oh," Tim peeped. "Well. Make sure you call me then, okay?"

Kon nodded and turned to head towards the couch. Tim caught Kon by the shoulder and forced the taller man to turn back around. Tim pressed up on his tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on Kon's lips.

"I love you, Kon," Tim said with a hopeful smile.

"I know," Kon answered as he turned back towards the couch.

Tim watched his husband walk away, and reluctantly headed to bed.

{December 22, 2017}

Tim Woke up just as Kon and the boys were grabbing their things to leave, just after five in the morning. He heard small footsteps on the kitchen’s hardwood floor, and bolted out of bed to see his children them. He slid into the kitchen wearing only boxers and one of Kon’s old tees, and smiled at his family.

“Good morning, boys,” Tim said as he dashed to kiss each of his sons on the cheek. “How are we this morning, hmm?”

“Sleepy,” Jack, the oldest, groaned.

“Me too,” Dylan mumbled in agreement.

“I bet,” Tim said with a laugh. The boys were both rubbing their eyes and clutching stuffed animals, and it was absolutely adorable. 

Kon walked into the bedroom to grab the last of their things, so Tim was left alone with the boys. Tim swept Dylan up into his arms as Jack hugged his legs. 

“Why aren’t you coming, dad?” Jack whined. Tim’s heart broke at the sound. Kon being mad at him was one thing, but his son being sad? Somehow that was even worse.

Tim reached down to pet Jack’s hair. “Dad has work, sweetheart,” he said gently, “but we can celebrate Christmas again after you come back from Ma’s, okay?”

“But christmas only happens once a year,” Jack whined. 

Tim sighed. “I know, Jacky, but we can play pretend, alright?”

“Okay, dad,” Jack replied quietly.

Kon reentered the kitchen after Tim and Jack’s exchange, and pulled a now dozing Dylan from Tim’s arms.

“Come on Jack,” Kon said, grabbing his son’s hand, “it’s time to go.”

Jack hesitantly grabbed Kon’s hand, and looked back towards his other father.

“Bye, dad,” he said as he waved at Tim with his free hand.

“Bye, Jacky,” Tim replied. As his family walked out the door, Tim cried “call me when you get to the airport, and again when you land!”

“Will do,” Kon said over his shoulder.

“I love you!” Tim exclaimed. No one responded. The rest of the family was already out the door.

Tim ran to the window and watcvhed as his boys climbed into the car. Alfred saw him, and offered Tim a smile and a wave.

Tim didn’t have the heart to wave back.


	2. Love this Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I would update this weekly? And that it'd be finished soon? Ha I am a liar. I'm doing my best. Pinky swear.

After Kon and their children left, Tim went for his typical morning jog and clutched his phone the whole time, waiting for Kon to call. Kon didn’t call during the run, so Tim postponed his shower once he got home in an effort not to miss the call. 

Tim tried to focus on the run, on the feeling of his muscles being strained, on the sweat on his brow, but his thoughts always wandered back to Kon. 

How had things between them gotten so bad? Married life was so great in the beginning.Their days were full of laughter, movie marathons, lazy Sunday afternoons. When had it turned sour?

Tim knew the answer to that last question. 

But the call never came. It was near nine in the morning, and the flight was scheduled to leave at quarter to nine. 

Tim gave up on the phone call, and sent a short text instead. 

I love you, hope you are safe and that the boys are behaving. Call me when you land.

Tim eventually gave up on waiting for Kon to call, and jumped into the shower and got dressed for work. His work day typically started at eight in the morning, but he’d called in that morning and notified his assistant, Tam, that he would be late.

\---

Perhaps assistant wasn’t quite the right word for what Tam was to Tim. She was his rock at work, she kept his head on straight, she knew him better than anyone, except for maybe Kon. Everyone jokingly referred to Tam as Tim’s work wife. Tam had been Tim’s best friend since their college days.

And Kon had disliked her since their college days, too.

So when Kon finally called Tim at the office just after two. The afternoon, he was none too pleased to have Tam pick up instead of his husband.

Tam popped into Tim’s office just after lunch with a smirk on her face. “It's for you, Tim, it's Conner.”

“I hate when you call him that,” Tim grumbled. “Put him on for me.”

“He's on line three, boss man,” Tam said before she left with an exaggerated salute.

Tim ruffled his hair and fixed his tie, and then realized that it was stupid and unnecessary, because it wasn't like Kon could actually see him.

He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed line two, excited to hear Kon’s voice for the first time in hours.

“This is Timothy Drake Wayne-Kent speaking, how can I assist you today,” Tim schmoozed into the receiver.

His words were met with an annoyed sigh. “Tim, you and your three last names,” Kon complained. “And you didn't have to introduce yourself, your work wife told me she'd tell you it was me.”

Tim smiled into the phone. “Yeah, but my last names are fun to say,” he said with a laugh. “And stop calling Tam my work wife. You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Not like you were in love with her at one point, or anything,” Kon said under his breath.

“Hey!” Tim barked. “I might not have Kryptonian hearing, but I heard that. That was years ago, Kon. And I know you didn't actually call me just to start a fight.”

Kon sighed into the phone again. “You're right, Tim.”

“As usual,” Tim said with a giggle.

Kon was apparently not amused. “I just wanted to let you know we've landed and are safe. We're in a cab headed for the farm now.”

“Ma didn't want to pick you guys up herself?” Tim asked.

“Not today,” Kon grunted. “It's a bad day today, I think.”

Tim knew what meant. Martha had been somewhat depressed since her husband had passed away. He'd died in a car accident just after Jack was born. Ever since then, Martha would have days where she could hardly leave the house. 

“Tell her I love her, okay?” Tim said softly. “And then tell the boys the same thing.”

“Will do, Tim,” Kon answered, and then he hung up.

It was only after Tim had heard the ringing of disconnected call that he realized he hadn't told Kon he loved him.


	3. 9 to 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My middle name is "inconsistent." My updating habits are terrible! I'm trying to get ahead on this story so I can work out an update schedule and get this bad boy finished. And then maybe I'll get to all the other unfinished pieces sitting on my profile :-)

Tim worked slowly for the rest of the afternoon. It was hard to get any work done when he was busy fretting over his relationship with his husband. 

His unproductivity was obvious, and Tam knew him too well to let him keep working on a whole lot of nothing.

Around four, the ever attentive assistant stepped into Tim’s office and shut the door. Tim looked up, as raised an eyebrow.

She put her hand on her hip, and purses her lips. “Timothy,” she began, “you're getting absolutely nothing done today. Go home.”

Tim groaned in annoyance. “You know I can't do that yet, I have stuff to do.”

Tam rolled her eyes. “We both know this isn't the real work you're worried about.”

“Tam,” Tim hissed, “keep it down. We’re at work.”

“And your door is closed,” Tam rationalized. “Bruce cleared your day job schedule for the week. So your night work is what you really should be worried about.”

Tim shook his head. “You make me sound like a prostitute, Tam.”

“A prostitute of Justice,” she said seriously. “You seduce the dangers of the city and then defeat them in a fatal swoop. Gotham’s very own Patrick Bateman.”

Tim let out a choked laugh. “Jesus, Tam, a prostitution and a murderer.”

Tam smirked. “Much love, bird boy.”

“Same to you, Tammy,” Tim responded with an eye roll. “You're ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” she quipped. “What are you doing tonight, anyways?”

Tim turned serious. “I can't tell you, Tam,” he whispered. “I won't put you in danger.”

Tam shot him a sad smile. “It comes with the job, Timmy.”

Tim shook his head. “It's really something I can't tell you, Tam. I'm sorry.”

Tam shrugged. “Does the hubby know?”

Tim shook his head again. “No, not this time.”

“He's gonna be pissed,” Tam said with a frown. “He should know, Tim.”

“He can't know,” Tim growled.

Tam put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, boss,” she crooned, “but I'm quite certain a man of Conner’s capability could handle knowing about whatever the hell you’re doing.”

“Just stay out of this one, okay?” Tim pleaded. “And if he calls the office in the next couple days, tell him I'm busy.”

“Okay,” Tam relented, “but don't blame me if this fucks something up with Conner.”

Tim just went back to his laptop and waved her out of the room.


	4. Homemade Dynamite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm digging this 'verse currently so here's another chapter!

Tim eventually decided to follow Tam’s advice.

Well, he almost followed it. He didn't actually go home, home reminded him of Kon and the boys, and he didn't have the energy to go down that dark, twisty rabbit hole right now, with all the work he had to do.

So instead, Tim packed up his laptop, grabbed his jacket, slipped into his Audi, and sped off to the manor.

\---

Although Tim had moved out just after graduating from college, the manor was still home to some of his pseudo-siblings.

Jason still lived in his childhood bedroom, though he often bunked with Kori and Roy. The married couple helped Jason whenever he was in a depressed funk, which was often, these days, as a new Joker was beginning to gain traction in Gotham’s underground. Plus, with Lian off at college, Kori and Roy seemed to need constant entertainment, and Jason was happy to provide it.

Damian still lived in the manor, too, though he claimed it was solely for easy access to the cave. Tim knew it was deeper than that, the boy had too strong of an attachment to Alfred to abandon the place.

And lastly, Helena lived at the manor, at least occasionally. The product of the on again, off again relationship between Bruce and Selina, Helena opted to split her time between her mother and father, and whatever boy she was dating at the time. Bruce often compared the girl to her mother’s cats, she was always on the move, and always ready to flee.

Tim got along with all of his siblings pretty well these days. Age had mellowed his rivalry with Jason, and Damian had warmed up to Tim by the time he entered high school. Tim visited Dick often, because he adored Barbara and their twins, and Tim visited Steph and Cass at least once a month for non-bat related activities.

Even though he got along with all of his siblings, Tim would easily admit to any of them that Helena was his favorite. 

Nineteen years his junior, the youngest Wayne had Tim wrapped around her pinky finger from the day she was born. Tim remembered studying for midterms with a gurgling toddler on his lap, and writing his Master’s thesis between episodes of My Little Pony.

But now that his baby sister was all grown up, Tim didn't get to see very much of her anymore. So he was pleasantly surprised when Helena was actually at the manor when he decided to show up.

As Tim walked through the front door, he saw a petite woman slide down the bannister on the main staircase.

“Timmy!” she shouted with glee, as she sprinted to the door.

“Helena,” Tim exclaimed loudly, “I wasn't expecting to see you here!”

Helena laughed. “I live here, dork.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “When you're not with Selina. Or that boy.”

Helena rolled her eyes. “His name is Grant, Timmy. You know that, you've met him!”

“Ah yes,” Tim mused, “how could I forget Bruce and the Thanksgiving fiasco?”

Helena blushed and swatted at Tim’s shoulder. “Shut up, Tim.”

Tim threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“I hate it when you guys call me that,” Helena said with a laugh.

Tim shrugged. “Bruce started it.”

Helena groaned. “Since when does anyone ever listen to dad?”

Tim just laughed in response, and headed toward the manor’s main kitchen. He didn't really have a reply, he always froze up when Helena called Bruce ‘dad.’ She was the only one in the family who did it, and it still made Tim feel like an awkward mess whenever it happened. He always wondered if he should have taken up the practice when he first began living with Bruce.

Tim tended to overthink things.

Once Tim entered the kitchen, he noticed an unusual sight. Dick was sitting up on the counter, munching on a bowl of cereal.

“Timmy!” Dick said, delighted, once he realized Tim’s presence. “Bruce didn't tel me that you were coming over early!”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Couldn't go home, I guess.”

Dick frowned at Tim’s words. The older man hopped off the counter, and stood in front of Tim.

“What's wrong, Timbo?” Dick asked, setting his hand on Tim’s shoulder.

Tim laughed quietly. “That stupid nickname again, huh?”

“Well,” Helena said as she breezed through the kitchen’s entryway, “if I'm princess, you're Timbo.”

Tim laughed a bit louder this time. “Sounds fair, princess.”

Dick swatted at Helena for a moment, just until the youngest Wayne left the room, and then turned back to Tim. “Seriously, Tim, what's the matter?”

“It's just stuff with Kon,” Tim said with a shrug.

“Oh,” Dick said with a frown. “What did he do? He might be a Super, but I can take him.”

Tim sighed. “He didn't do anything,” Tim mumbled, “I did.”

“Oh,” Dick said again. “Well then, that's Clark’s jurisdiction.”

Tim chuckled at Dick’s weak attempt at humor. “I'm sure he'll get over it, he always does.”

Dick momentarily turned back to the counter and grabbed his cereal again. “Maybe you should call him,” Dick mused through a mouthful of Frosted Flakes.

“I talked to him in the afternoon,” Tim said quietly. “He called me at work.”

Dick grimaced. “Did Tam pick up?”

Tim nodded.

“Then you definitely should call him,” Dick decided.

“I will when I go upstairs to get changed,” Tim promised. “You think Jay will kill me if I steal his sweats?”

“Nah,” Dick said. “But they'll be way too big on you, squirt.”

“I am forty four years old, Richard,” Tim groaned. “Please stop with the squirt business.”

“Sure,” Dick said with a smirk, “soon as you get a little taller, Timbo.”

With another annoyed groan, Tim stomped out of the kitchen and upstairs to Jason’s room.


	5. Don't You Remember

Dick was right, Jason’s clothes were way too big. Tim hated how he seemed to drown in the fabric, but he was glad to be out of his slacks. 

Tim left Jason’s room and headed toward his old room at the manor. Going into his old room always made Tim nostalgic. Bruce hadn't touched anything, the science fiction posters remained on his walls, and old debate trophies lined dusty bookshelves.

Tim sat down on his old twin bed, and pulled his cell phone from the pocket of Jason’s sweats. He clicked it on, and then realized that the gadget was about to die. And his charger was at home.

“Shit,” Tim whispered to himself. How was he supposed to call Kon without his cell phone?

Tim supposed that he could ask one of his siblings for a charger, but he knew they'd be busy for the next few hours. It was just approaching seven, which meant that Helena would be off to night classes soon, and Dick would be heading into the city to kiss Barbara and their twins goodnight before going on patrol.

And Bruce was out of the question, he was running the comms until midnight, when Tim would take over for the older man.

Tim felt hopeless. It would take ages to drive back into the city and grab his charger from home, Kon might even be in bed by the time Tim charged his phone. As he glanced around his old room, searching for a charger he'd left there by accident, his eyes stumbled upon something else.

A landline.

There was a Star Wars themed dial-up telephone sitting on the bookshelf nearest to the door. It was dusty, and the cord was tangled, but it was still plugged into the wall, and Bruce probably still payed for telephone service, seeing as the millionaire tended to pay bills blindly.

“Bingo,” Tim said out loud, as he bolted toward the phone.

Luckily for Tim, he started dating Kon in the nineties, back when cellphones were uncommon and phone numbers had to be memorized if you used them often. So Tim still had the Kent’s phone number memorized, for all the times he'd called Kon on school breaks.

Tim dialed the number at lightning speed, there was a strange sense of urgency in his actions. As the dial tones beeped in his ear, Tim found himself biting his lip with nervousness.

 

Eventually, Martha Kent picked up.

“Hello?” Martha hummed into the phone.

“Oh hey, Martha,” Tim said back. He was trying his best not to sound shocked, but it had been years since Martha had answered the phone. The old woman was usually to sad or too busy to bother answering at all.

“Hayis for horses, Timothy,” Martha chided. Another surprise for Tim, Martha dropped the ‘othy’ ending years ago, and adopted the simpler ‘Tim’ like everyone else.

“You're right,” Tim said with a laugh. He didn't know what was up with Martha, but he liked that she sounded happy. “Can I talk to Kon?”

“Sure, honey,” Martha gushed. “I'll tell Jon to go and get him.”

“Jon is there?” Tim asked. Kon’s younger brother hadn't said anything about going up to Smallville for Christmas.

“Why wouldn't he be, dear?” Martha asked in response.

Tim faltered. “Right, right. Well, is Kon around?”

“Young love,” Martha laughed. “You two make a handsome couple!”

“Uh, thanks, Martha,” Tim said.

“Here's Kon, honey,” Martha said, “I'll talk to you soon!”

Martha passed the phone off to Kon, and suddenly Tim’s ears were flooded with the deep tenor of his husband’s voice.

“Hi T,” Kon said in a dejected tone. 

Tim was even more confused now. Kon hadn't called him T since college. 

“Um, hi Kon,” Tim responded timidly. “Are we...okay?”

Kon huffed a lengthy sigh into the receiver. “I don't know, T, I don't like where we left things.”

Tim let out a sigh of relief. Kon was actually beginning to sound like himself. 

“Me neither, Kon,” Tim said, letting tears bubble up in his eyes.

“Just know that I love you,” Kon said quietly. “So much, T.”

The tears were falling openly, now. “I love you too, Kon.”

“I wish I could talk for longer,” Kon said, “but I'm really busy right now.”

“With what?” Tim asked.

“That stupid paper for Dr. McCoy,” Kon said with a sigh.

“Oh,” Tim peeped. That didn't make any sense. Dr. McCoy was Kon’s least favorite Journalism teacher in college.

In 1995.

Twenty two years ago.

“Bye T,” Kon said, and then he hung up the phone.

And lest Tim there, clutching his Death Star telephone in utter disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for reading :-)


End file.
